And All for the Want of a Martian Delight
by Hersenschim
Summary: Wally discovers the price of coveting J'onn's Oreos.... [oneshot]


This story popped into my head while doing Calculus homework. It's not really all that original, but I realized how much crap I was putting Wally through in my other two stories, so I wrote this. Of course, I am sadistic, and I like putting Wally through crap, but this is somewhat better that being paralyzed for life and being shot seventy-gajillion times. Also, the little green man shows his evil side…. **_Mwahahaha_.** _Well, enjoy!_

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**And All for the Want of a Martian Delight**

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Ah, my. What a day. _Aliens, deep-space worm-holes, Yellow Lanterns_….

The redhead sauntered in, his patented 'look-at-me-I'm-a-wise-ass' grin plastered onto his now well-scrubbed freckled face.

He paused, spying the ever-so precautious Martian hunched deviously over the controls. He arched a curious eyebrow.

"Watcha doooooooooin'?" His voice was loud and flat, yet there was a whistle of (feigned) curious innocence to his question. J'onn shifted into alert-mode, straightening up, and darting his eyes about in a wary fashion that could only have meant one thing. Wally grinned.

"Go away, Wally. I am doing something important."

Wally zipped to the side, arching his neck over the Martian's shoulder. Almost instinctively, J'onn grunted and, with his free hand, flicked Wally in the nose.

"Ow!" Wally sniffed in momentary self-pity.

"I told you to go away."

"Fine… stupid Martian," he muttered and turned to leave, when a shiny, crinkled paper bag caught him in his peripheral vision. He turned to stare. "Hey! Are those _Oreos_?" He zipped over.

"No! _Mine!_" J'onn leapt over and grabbed them from Wally's limp fingers, cradling the bag possessively in his arms. Wally gasped.

"Aw, man! Those are the new mint flavoured ones too! Gimme!"

J'onn immediately drew further into himself.

"No!"

"Pleaaaase?"

"No!"

"Please?"

"No!"

"Pretty pleeeaase? With a Swedish-Berry on top? I'm not scheduled to go the surface in, like, weeks, an' I just got back from a mission, an' I'm rrrrrrreaaaaaaaaally really hungry, an' I want a mint flavoured Oreo!"

"No!"

"Fine, you big, green _fucktard_. I don't _want_ your Oreos." He pivoted on his heel and ambled huffily towards the doors, hoping that he had improved at least minutely in his reverse-psychology, and that the Martian wasn't too offended at his proficient use of French. He paused a foot away from the door, sighed, and spun to face the startled J'onn. "Geez! All I want is an Oreo or two! You're so selfish! I bet you're the most stingy Martian that ever existed! _God!_"

"Actually, no. Martians are rather tightfisted."

To this, Wally sulked. _So much_ for reverse psychology. He exhaled his defeat and turned, once more, to the rest of the Oreo-deficient Watchtower that lay before him. He stuck out his foot, slowly and deliberately, making his first step into sulkiness.

"Wally, wait-"

Wally tilted his head in partially hidden anticipation.

"What?"

"I'll give you an Oreo, but you have to do something for me."

Wally's face brightened. _Score._

"Okay, I'll do _whatever_ you want."

"It's embarrassing."

"Uhhh, do I _look_ like the kind of person that embarrasses easily?"

J'onn's usually nonchalant mouth widened into a disturbedly pensive smile, and Wally's characteristic grin began to falter.

**2222222222222222222222222**

Gah.

Of all the things he would _ever_ be asked to do. _Ever. _

He crept down the hallway, towards the muffled din of the cafeteria.

When he said he didn't embarrass easily, he didn't _mean_ that he _didn't_ _embarrass easily_- just that he embarrassed _less easily_ than others.

He supposed that, from everything, there was a lesson to be learned. Such as Martians can be incredibly scary and perverted. God only knew the horrible, sick little fantasies that were played out in _his_ mind. He shuddered and twitched oddly at the ensuing influx of weird mental images.

He set an uncertain foot onto the cafeteria's glossy, tiled floor.

_Crapoop._ The bat was already looking at him. He whistled and shuffled to the side in a desperate attempt to seem inconspicuous.

_Hm._ It wasn't _too_ late. He could always just go back and … just not _do_ this. They were only mint-flavoured Oreos after all… right?

_Too late! You have to do it now!_

The voice practically roared. Wally squinted insubordination.

_Or what?_

_Or else._

_Or else what?_

_I'll tell them all about Scruffy and Mr. Jigglepants. _

Wally's pupils widened in sheer, unadulterated terror. His mind screamed to the sound of J'onn's malevolent laughter, and the fading theme of Gilligan's Island in the background.

_Blackmail!!_

He grimaced, setting his jaw in resolute determination.

_Alright then._ It wasn't a big deal. It was just… his pride.

Damn it. Damn it all. _Damn you_, J'onn J'onnz!

_No, Wally. Damn you. _

This fairly abrupt, random comment was followed by a soft, continuous 'tee-heeing'.

His eyes darted desperately from side to side. He was trapped between a rock and a hard place. He pouted. Why was he such a _dumbass_? He paused, waiting almost half-expectantly for another errant comment, but, to his nervous relief, none came.

He shuffled against the wall, spying for an empty seat.

_Ah. Found one. _

He looked up to see Clark sitting at the table. On further scrutiny, he realized that Clark was the only one at it.

His eyes enlarged.

The idea of sitting at a table alone with Clark did not really strike his fancy in any way, for when he was not being Superman, he was usually being 'the good little boy from Kansas', or, worse, the 'hey-look-at-what-_I_-wrote-in-the-newspaper-today' guy from … wherever.

For a 'good little boy from Kansas', he was awfully pushy with his (incredibly gratuitous) opinions. No wonder he didn't have any friends.

His eyes darted further, and he spotted another empty seat, next to Crimson Fox, who, he then slowly decided, seemed to be picking her nose quite fervently. He crinkled his nose in inquisitive disgust as she wiped her newfound, olive-green treasure on the side of her chair.

_Gross. Definitely_ not sitting there.

He turned his sight to the other corner of the room, and had the misfortune to behold Vigilante (not-so-discreetly) stick his hand into his pants and attempt to scratch his balls.

This only made Wally twitch.

Ew.

Of course, Vigilante was leaving, though Wally couldn't help but think that there was a more secluded area, somewhere in the vicinity, in which he could have chosen to scratch his balls. At least _other than_ the _cafeteria_. Where people _were eating_. And could _see him_. Whatever.

Man, people were _definitely_ in need of 'Hygiene-and-Manners-101'.

_Mneh_. Superhero hygiene.

Which somehow reminded him of the time Clark had punched him in the gut and he had run to the bathroom to throw up, but the only available cubicle was the unflushable one with the bloody stool in it.

Which reminded him of the time he ditched uni-prep calculus to check out the guys' washroom, in which one of toilets had been filled to the brim with shit, and apparently the guy who had done it had shat himself out of existence. He also vaguely remembered daring Denis to poke it with his pencil, but the memory was a distorted blur after that.

He blinked.

What _the hell_ was wrong with him? Why was he thinking about this… (very literally) _shit_? (Or maybe he was just trying gross J'onn out so that he would _leave him alone_? Hm. He didn't think so.)

_Quit stalling!_

J'onn's typically complacent voice was suddenly frighteningly grating, and the abruptness of the command had almost made him jump. Behind him, Hank muttered.

Wally winced, took a breath and headed towards Clark.

_No! Go to Batman!_

_I'm trying not to look suspicious! And there's no space at Bats' table!_

_Just go!_

Bossy… jerk-face.

_I heard that!_

Wally rolled his eyes and changed direction, suddenly aware of how hopeful Clark had looked initially when Wally had decided to head that way. Now, he almost felt… _bad_ for the guy.

He slowed to a halt at Bruce's table, and was eerily aware of the silent attentiveness around him. Bruce put down his juice. J'onn's hysterical laughter filled his pounding head.

"Ummh… Bruce?

"What?" Monosyllabic, guttural Bat-ness. There was a bitter taste at the tip of Wally's tongue.

It was too late to go back. Now, he had to say it. _Damn it._

Had he been _insane_ when he chosen to do this? Was he _insane, now_? Probably, though sanity is generally quite a relative thing. Besides, if he had ever been even _close_ to sane, he would have burned his suit and put himself up in Arkham _ages_ ago. _Oh,_ the irony.

_You'd better give me more than one for this, buddy._

J'onn giggled and Wally's trembling lips parted. The rest of the cafeteria watched in keen expectancy. Diana, sitting opposite Bruce, raised a curious eyebrow. Wally breathed.

"I have something to tell you…." Bruce's response was a derisive grunt, and Wally felt himself turning very, very red. "I'm…"

_Say it! Say it! _J'onn screamed.

The stakes were too high. For Scruffy and Mr. Jigglepants… he had to suffer. Oh, _the humanity_.

Diana's eyebrow went further up her forehead.

"Well?"

"I'm… in love with you." The last bit came out in a hurried, whispered slur.

For a moment, he felt his head explode.

The cafeteria stared.

He swiveled smoothly on the cold floor and _ran_, but not before catching Diana's somewhat infuriated expression of 'I'm-going-to-find-you-later-and-shove-a-spork-up-your-(_desired bodily opening_)'.

J'onn was practically hyperventilating in his head.

_Oh, my Martian Moons!_

He burst into his room, and the doors buzzed shut behind him. He leaned wearily against the wall, staring, partially relieved, at the space before him. His eyes moved to his bed, where a plate lay on his crumpled, sweaty sheets.

One Oreo. And a half. Decorated with crumbs.

_J'onn, what the hell? I asked for more than one!_

_It is._

_Argh, you bastard! You licked the mint off the half! _

_It's still more than one._

J'onn's cheery voice floated into nothing, and Wally was left all alone.

Big, green, fucktard-y jerk-face.

He plonked onto the mattress and opened up the full Oreo. His tongue curled over the cream. _Mmm. Minty._

Just as he began to enjoy the flavour, there was a jarring, mechanical buzz. He looked up to see a heavy, draped figure, black in the rectangle of the doorway.

"Hey." Monosyllabic, guttural Bat-ness.

_Oh. Crapoop. _

He looked up, and there was nowhere left to go… but down.


End file.
